


Indulgence

by SmutForAll (Searece)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, NSFW, PWP, Plug and Play, Prostitution, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/SmutForAll
Summary: Jazz is an escort, a professional prostitute or companion for hire.  This isn't the first time Mirage has hired him, but it's certainly still enjoyable.





	Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Courtesan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498074) by [WilyMech](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilyMech/pseuds/WilyMech). 



> I actually had lost the notebook I was writing this on, or I would have posted it sooner. I was so upset, which made me rush the end when I found it. But now, enjoy!

            He flashed a smile at the pretty noble who had hired him that evening.  “I would be charmed to join you in your suite tonight, my Lord.”  Not like he had a choice in the matter, he laughed to himself, except he did, but he had let Mirage hire him for the night and the mech had done no wrong to him so far.

            “Come,” spoke the noble as he offered his arm, “We have spent long enough in the delightful company of our hosts.”

            Jazz paid little mind to the décor of the house as they walked through, though the guest suites were unfamiliar to him.  He tilted his helm and hummed appreciatively.  “Quite elegant, but not overdone.”

            “Agreed,” spoke the noble, “But would you care to inspect the shower with me?”

            Joy lit up Jazz’s face.  “I would be delighted.”  They moved into the shower room and he asked, “Do you desire any refreshments?”

            “No, just the pleasure of your company.”

            Jazz bowed extravagantly and turned to the counter where the bathing supplies were laid out.  His slender servos untied the white sash around his waist and set it upon the counter.  Arms wrapped around his waist and he leaned against Mirage without a thought.  This was a familiar activity for them, the noble hired Jazz often enough.  The escort moaned as Mirage peeled off a layer of his outfit and helped him shrug off the under covering.  The escort shivered as his bare form was revealed, a draft of cold beating at him from the still open door.

            “Mirage,” he mewed in protest at the other’s forgetfulness.

            “Apologies.” The noble chuckled and pried himself off Jazz to shut the electronic door.  Jazz slumped onto the stool in front of the counter, his venting quick.  With weak servos, he started taking off his decorative jewelry.  He watched through the mirror as Mirage crossed behind him to the faucet.

            “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome, Jazz.  Do you want your usual temperature?”

            “Yes, please,” Jazz told him as he slid off the last bangle from his wrist.  He admired the other’s fine back plating, close to his protoform and beautiful.  He turned and stood to aid Mirage in collecting their cleansers.

            “I have your preferred scent,” said the noble as he showed Jazz a bottle of Opalina “Crystal Fresh” Clean & Polish.  Jazz’s optics lit up.

            “My favorite brand, too!”  He lunged forward and wrapped his servos around Mirage’s neck.

            “I accept nothing but the best when I spend my money on you,” Mirage said as he wrapped an arm around the escort’s waist.  “Now, however, we should relax.”

            With a grin, Jazz trailed his digits over Mirage’s collarfaring to his shoulders and down to his chest seam.  Armor shuttered under his feather touch as he brushed his helm against the noble’s chest.  The noble groaned as Jazz pulled away, calling him a tease.  “But, oh, my Lord, you’re filthy,” Jazz gasped back, “It would be a shame to not wash you first.”

            Mirage snorted out a laugh and grabbed the soft washcloth Jazz preferred.  They soaped up each other’s items and Jazz giggled when Mirage stroked over his audios.  He ruthlessly wiggled Mirage’s poof into his sides, the noble letting out a choked noise.  Mirage decided not to tolerate that and Jazz squealed as the noble picked him up.  He barely noticed the thump as Mirage stumbled into the wall, so distracted he was by the insistent tickling.

            “Stop, stop!” he cried, his voice muffled by his laughter.  He panted as Mirage listened and merely held him close, letting Jazz feel the heaving of the other’s chest.  “I think you’re my fave employer.”

            “I hold you in favor as well,” Mirage murmured after a moment.

            They stayed like that a few minutes more, just Mirage holding his escort against him.  Jazz’s optics dimmed and he turned into the other’s arms.  “Mirage,” he started, laying his helm against the other’s neck, “are we… friends? Or more?”  That was a dangerous thing for an escort like him to suggest.  Attached mecha who hired bots like him tended to want to take advantage of that relationship, or they got jealous and became threats to the escort’s job.  Mirage was better than that, or so Jazz hoped.

            “Perhaps we are.  What would you do?” Mirage’s grip on him tightened a little, enough to be snug and not loose.

            Jazz tucked his face further into the mech’s armor.  “I’d… keep things as they are now.”

            “Then we are friends,” Mirage whispered as he pressed his cheek to Jazz’s helm, “Come.  Let us soak.”

            “Not going to finish our cleanse?” Jazz held himself safely cocooned in the noble’s arms.

            “We are finished enough.”

            Jazz moaned as he was led into the hot oil.  It seeped into his protoform and soothed the aches from an evening of posing.  He loved being by a mech’s side at an event, but few things were more taxing on his processor than navigating a swarm of some of the most bloodthirsty mecha on Cybertron.  Not that Mirage was like that.  Sure, the mech knew how to navigate the evening with the best, but Jazz rarely witnessed him sabotage a group that didn’t deserve the treatment.

            Mirage seemed determined to bestow a different kind of treatment to him though, fortunately enough.  He moaned as the other mech traced his back plating and palmed his aft, squeezing it as he braced himself against the edge of the tub.  Primus.  He was so easily worked up.

            “Come along.”  The servos left his frame and Jazz straddled Mirage’s lap.  Arms wrapped around his waist.

            “Already?” Jazz asked with his helm against the other’s neck again.

            “Yes.”

            With a smile, Jazz opened his interface covers—all of them—to let the noble decide how the evening would go.

            “Close this.” A tap on his pelvis.

            Jazz moaned, half in disappointment and half in arousal as the hot oil became trapped against him.  The plating under his servos twitched and Jazz grinned and rubbed his digits against Mirage’s port covers, wanting the delicious experience of jacking in.  They weren’t opening though.  Did the mech intend on teasing him all night?

            Apparently--oh!  Maybe not.

            He slid his servos down and rubbed over Mirage’s hardline interfacing equipment.  It sparked under his touch and Jazz chuckled.  The noble panted, his own servos rubbing down Jazz’s waist to search for Jazz’s open ports.  The smaller mech tossed his helm back and groaned, ports sending out charges.

            Mirage shifted in the tub and attacked Jazz’s neck with his glossa.  He lapped at the cables and tasted a cloying sweetness, a flavored wax that Jazz’s previous client must have put on him.  Not the best choice, Mirage thought, given Jazz’s personality, but tolerable.

            “Mirage,” Jazz mewled as he noble’s lips pressed against his chin.

            “Impatient?” queried the noble, “Do you want to feel my processor against yours?”

            “Yes, please,” Jazz answered with a flex of his waist, showing off where his ports and jacks were.  They glistened as oil ran down their sockets.  “You feel so good sending data to me.”

            Mirage teasingly unspooled one of Jazz’s plugs for him and flicked the tip of his glossa across it.  Jazz’s servos clenched on the noble’s shoulders as he gasped, legs shaking from that contact alone.

            “Your previous client must have neglected you, for you to be this charged up so quickly,” Mirage chuckled.

            Jazz ducked his helm, biting his lip as he said, “No, I’m just eager for you.  You give and take very well.”

            Mirage, skilled lover that he was, noticed the desperation slipping into Jazz’s tone and smirked, deciding that he’d teased the escort enough.  He guided the other’s prong into his port and did the same to his jack and Jazz’s port.  Jazz, upon resettling himself fully onto Mirage’s lap, sent a small datapacket over to the noble.  Mirage lowered most of his firewalls and moaned as he accepted the loaded packed.

            The escort’s firewalls readily collapsed under the touch of the other’s processor, letting Mirage feel the full weight of Jazz’s desire for this interface.  He groaned at the eager submission and thrust a larger data stream at the other.

            With a feedback loop now established, their touches grew more heated, seeking out hotspots both above and below the silken oil, and their kisses more frantic over the other’s helm as their charge built.”

            “Mirage!” Jazz cried out at a squeeze to his aft.

            The noble could tell Jazz was close to overload by the engine revving high, his vents cycling faster, and the way his legs and arms squeezed around him closer.  He felt his own climax speeding upon them in the twitch of his abdomen and the tensing of his cables.

            “Jazz,” he groaned out, strengthening his pulses, sending them faster to drive their charge up high.  He used Jazz’s processor against him by triggering as many pleasure synapses as he could while still sending data.  Another pulse became one too many, and Jazz convulsed over him, the full strength of his overload slamming into the noble across the hardline.  Mirage’s frame twitched, pulling the escort closer as one overload set off another, and pleasure ricocheted between them.

            Jazz’s frame fell limp on top of him, and when he came out of his post-overload haze, he realized the escort had dropped into a reboot from the overload.  Preening at the knowledge, Mirage braced his servos against Jazz, holding him, and stood up.  He let the oil drip off their frames as he stepped out of the pool.  Jazz’s frame hummed, clutching him tighter as Mirage carried him to the berthroom when they were suitable dry.  He laid the mech down on the berth first, careful not to drop him, and safely unplugged them from each other.

            Mirage laid beside Jazz, gaze focused on those vulnerable faceplates.

            “You are perfect,” he told the other’s unconscious form.  He would keep his optics on Jazz until he could determine if the mech possessed the qualities.  But for now, he was only an escort, and Mirage only a noble who hired him.

            .

            .

            .

            END


End file.
